


these small hours

by orphan_account



Category: Tales of Xillia
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although they may not seem like much, these are the moments Ludger loves the most – small and fragile, but coloured with something irreplaceable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these small hours

**Author's Note:**

> this was the most pointless thing i have ever written also i hate myself and i long for the sweet release of death. i will meet you in hell

By the time Julius gets out of work that day, the last vestiges of sunlight have already disappeared beyond the horizon. Trigleph at this time is always pleasant to witness, the lights lining the streets cutting through the ethereal purple haze of the early nighttime – but Julius is too tired to appreciate it, weighed down by a workday which has been both too long and too exhausting. The brief few steps up to the front door of his apartment block feel inexplicably daunting, and he curses under his breath quietly as his key fumbles awkwardly in the lock.

And yet, somehow – all of this seems to melt away in the face of Ludger's smile when he swings open the door, instant and bright and heart-wrenchingly genuine.

“...Hey,” Julius greets after a moment, voice tired but still affectionate. Rollo meows softly at his feet as he walks over to the couch.

“Welcome home,” Ludger returns. “...You're back late,” he adds after a moment, the unspoken question lingering clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Julius responds, heaving a sigh as he sits down. Rollo immediately leaps up onto his lap and settles down comfortably, Julius's fingers instinctively moving to gently comb through his fur. “Long day.” It's far from the first time he's left work late, but he knows Ludger can't quite relax until he's back – fondly, he recalls one time he had stumbled into their apartment in the very early hours of the morning only to find Ludger had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him, still wearing his cooking apron. Drowsily, he glances over at his brother, who happens to be tying that same apron loosely around his waist -

“Hey, what're you putting that on for? You don't need to cook me anything, it's fine, I've got stuff in the fridge,” he says, waving a hand dismissively, but Ludger pauses and looks away from him slightly.

“Ah, no,” Ludger mumbles, “I haven't eaten yet.”

Julius pauses. “...Why not?” Julius asks, and Ludger ducks his head in response.

“I was waiting for you,” he admits quietly.

Julius groans, pinching the bridge of his own nose gently. “Ludger, how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that? You shouldn't go hungry waiting for me - I could've been hours.”

“Yeah, but...” Ludger is still ducking his head; at least he has the decency to look slightly apologetic, but if Julius isn't mistaken, he can catch a hint of a faint blush dusting Ludger's cheeks. “I don't like eating without you.”

Julius sighs. “...You never change, do you?” he says reprimandingly, but there's no malice in his tone, and he can't fight the smile coming to his face. Across the room, Ludger returns his smile with one of his own, small and soft.

The time slowly ticks away after that, the sky outside their window gradually shifting into darker shades until the town is engulfed by the night. The television drones on in the background as they talk, and although Julius is still exhausted he's kept grounded in consciousness by the quiet tone of Ludger's voice and the warmth of his shoulder, resting gently against his own. They slide in and out of conversation, talking about nothing in particular, and although Julius knows he won't particularly remember this night, months from now, the entire situation – sitting here, settling into a comfortable quiet with the weight of his little brother comforting and firm against his side – evokes a strange sense of sentimentality within him. It feels inexplicably like this is something he needs to hold onto; this fleeting, tiny moment here with Ludger, on this still evening in this untroubled corner of the city.

But there's no way moments like this can last, he reflects bitterly, and it isn't until he catches Ludger looking at him that Julius realizes he's suddenly fallen suspiciously silent.

“Are you okay?” Ludger asks, frowning slightly - and as always, Julius mentally hits himself for making Ludger worry, even just marginally.

“Yeah, yeah,” Julius assures him. “Just thinking about something. Don't worry about me, little brother,” he says, and the concern melts off Ludger's face as Julius gently ruffles his hair.

“Okay,” Ludger says, and he settles back against the couch. His hair tickles the skin on Julius's neck slightly. A comfortable silence falls over them, stretching out into seconds before it's suddenly broken by the sound of Ludger yawning suddenly.

“I'm tired,” he mumbles, and Julius raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, I'm the one who's been at work all day,” he points out, and Ludger laughs sleepily. They banter back and forth like this for a few more minutes, until finally Julius turns to Ludger to find he's somehow dozed off, his head still nestled comfortably against Julius.

“...Honestly. You're not a child anymore, you know?” He can't even pretend to be annoyed, though; his words are laced with affection as his mind casts back to the days when Ludger would fall asleep on the couch on a daily basis after insisting he wasn't tired at all, normally for the sake of staying up to watch some program. Whenever that happened, Julius would dutifully carry him away to Ludger's own bed.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” he mutters, gently ushering Rollo off of his lap as he draws Ludger into his arms. His brother seems to instinctively shift into his warmth, making an unconscious, sleepy noise of assent. Rollo makes a small grumble, blinking up at Julius drowsily before padding off.

Julius makes his way into Ludger's room as silently as he can, not wanting to wake him – not that the chances of that are particularly high; Ludger is a notoriously heavy sleeper. Still, when he approaches Ludger's bed he tries to unhook his brother's arm from around his neck as delicately as he can. For a moment, it almost seems like Ludger doesn't want him to leave; in his sleep, he nuzzles against his shoulder tenderly, and Julius's breath catches momentarily in his throat, sparked by the rush of affection that rises up within him.

When he finally removes Ludger from his arms, he rests beside him momentarily, his exhaustion suddenly hitting him in full force. Ludger's hair falls across his eyes and Julius raises a hand to gently brush the strands away, his eyes lingering on the soft curves of Ludger's face, illuminated in the low light of the bedroom. As he does this, the strange, out-of-place intimacy of the moment hits him, and he withdraws his hand, his heart suddenly thudding uncomfortably in his chest. Sometimes, he -

but these are thoughts for another place, and another time, if ever. In any case, they have no place here in this moment, and Julius swallows them down, forcing his gaze to shift to the darkness of the room. He should probably head off to his own room at this point, but his limbs suddenly feel heavy, and the warmth emanating off of Ludger's sleeping figure is too comforting to part from, and before he knows it, sleep is washing over him in waves.

* * *

 

The first thing Ludger is conscious of when he wakes up is the sound of someone else's breathing. At first he barely acknowledges it it, still half-asleep, but as he gradually surfaces into lucidity, the sound becomes increasingly jarring, out of place against the usual silence of his bedroom. Blinking blearily, his eyes slowly adjusting to the low morning light, he finds himself face to face with his brother's sleeping form.

It's not the first time they've shared a bed – Ludger remembers that when he was younger, sleeping side by side with Julius was oddly exciting; he remembers referring to such times as 'sleepovers', even though technically they were always having a sleepover, and Julius would roll his eyes in affectionate exasperation but do what Ludger wanted anyway – but it's certainly the first time in a while. As Ludger's mind slowly retraces the previous night, he figures that Julius must have carried him into his own bed and then ended up falling asleep next to him. His mouth quirks up in a smile.

Craning his head over his shoulder briefly, his eyes fall upon the clock by his bedside, which kindly informs him it's far too early for him to be waking up. For a moment he considers waking Julius – it's not that long before he has to get up for work, anyway – but watching Julius's sleeping face, he can't bring himself to disturb him. His brother looks peaceful in a way that seems to have been escaping him a lot in recent times, and Ludger wants it to last for as long as he can.

Because sometimes, normally when he thinks Ludger isn't looking, Julius gets an expression on his face that is far removed from being peaceful, and his face forms a terrible frown, as though he's bearing the weight of something too heavy to carry. When that happens, Ludger never quite knows what to do. Sometimes Julius looks as though he's staring at something Ludger can't see, and that terrifies him. He never – he never wants Julius to go anywhere he can't follow.

So, here in his room, with the light of the early dawn filtering softly through the curtains, Ludger makes no move to wake his brother. As he lays watching the rise and fall of Julius's chest, a happiness forms in the depths of his heart, so solid and genuine it almost feels tangible. Although they may not seem like much, these are the moments Ludger loves the most – small and fragile, but coloured with something irreplaceable.

(And indeed, months down the line, when his legs threaten to buckle under the weight of all he's come to know, these are the sorts of things he will remember – maybe not this moment in particular, but this feeling, tiny and genuine and despairingly fleeting.)

 


End file.
